Windy Days
by Loopholes47
Summary: I suppose that being someone else really isn't all that grand. But I may as well cut out any lazy days since it's going to be a workload as this new 'Gaara'. It's hard to say if I can handle being this guy. Fem!Gaara Self-Insert.
1. Gone with the Wind

**A/N: I am really bored. Chapters here may or may not come. This was done on my tablet on pure whim.**

* * *

Sometimes things last forever.

Memories, perhaps?

I remember, then there's a ' _quick, SNAP!_ ' and it's all gone.

I was still in my prime, if I had to recall, but fairly successful in many things. Politics and Law Enforcement. Most things business.

My life exactly, I do not find interesting anymore. Because those strange second chances skewered any attempt of nostalgia. You _wanted_ to learn, to soak it all up before you get pinched and have daydreams all day to make up for it. But no matter how hard you try, the dream machine appears to be broken.

Good bye, Viktoria.

Hello, Ai.

While it did seem rather concerning and liable to confuse myself with my new scenes and people, I adapted rather quickly and moved with the flow. The first baby memories were of sand, and the color red. I knew subconsciously that even though I had been given a new life, self resecting one year olds could at most speak a few words, tottle around, and announce to the world their very basic status.

I did exactly that, but just the fact that I was _aware_ at that time should have been impossible for the human brain during that age.

I secretly hoped that I made a cute baby. I was quite vain, though didn't exactly fit into a stereotype. As amazing as it was, yes, there are normal and decent females out there. Not all are fangirls with make up and dieting issues. Nor are all tomboys.

At this age, I couldn't really care less, but the older me who had recently died noted my reddish hair and pale green eyes. Surprisingly, my skin was rather pale. Especially considering that I lived in a very large and very hot desert. I expected some tan, but that never came. What was the big shocker was when I realized my identity was not solely Ai of the Sands. I had once been a boy named Gaara. The only difference was probably our gender and the fact my mental strength was that of some at least twenty or so years older. So I had my sanity still intact.

The Sand Spirit, Shukaku, was sealed inside me. The Jinchurikis usually had dark bags under their eyes for the fact that the One Tailed Demon did NOT sleep. Thus the container could not sleep. I didn't mind at all, life was quite boring anyways so making out little shapes in the sand was now my definition of fun. What a boring person, me.

I could bend sand to my will ever since I could remember (in this life), so that made my games slightly more interesting. My sand was the sand on me at all times. It lived in my big pocket placed in the front of my robes, hidden by my big white scarf. Nobody really suspected a thing and nobody really cared. I could tell my bodyguards were wary of the demon baby who killed her own mother, but eventually jumped to more thought out conclusions than the rumors rather gossipy people started. I wasn't exactly the most talkative or entertaining client to protect/babysit/make sure don't become a mass murderer under their very own noses.

Sometimes I performed little shows with my sand to entertain them. This certainly was not a job for only one person, but by the time I was two, three of them had mortally perished on very unlucky missions. So only one was left. His name was Yashamaru. Okay, yes, due to foreknowledge of my previous life, I knew that he had to try and assassinate the other me, the Gaara boy. But for a good reason. My father, the yondaime Kazekage, had ordered him to do so. While that not a very good parent role model personality, I suppose I could sympathize. He wanted a weapon for his village and was clearly stressed out between his village's suffering economy and abonding his wife's wish to love and care for her child. Though, he sure had/will have a weird way of training his weapon.

Assassins. Very classy.

But that had better be put away for another time. I still had four more years until his first assassination attempt, and maybe another three or four or five years until Yashamaru was ordered to kill me.

But that plan could be foiled. All plans can be foiled.

Prove that I didn't need 'extra lessons' because I was strong enough all ready.

I'd prefer it that way, too. Maybe I was barely surviving in such good nature that death would make me snap into a mindless killing machine. Hmm...I had been hearing a few whispers in my mind that sounded like it could belong to a broken record from Tokyo Ghoul.

I wasn't feeling very hungry for a few days until the whispering finally temporarily receded. Ah. Good grief.

It was some time in April when I realized that I had eyebrows. Gaara hadn't had any, though there was the suspicion of that they were burned off when Gaara branded himself with the character for love. Ai... My name...

Well, then again, girl-Gaara wasn't very fitting, nor were two characters only on my head.

I had siblings, Temari and Kankuro. When was I to meet them, I mused. I lived in my uncle's house, and hadn't really had a chance for a meet and greet. I remembered from Before that Temari had blonde hair and very green eyes, Kankuro had brown hair and blackish eyes. Now, now, that was very different. Siblings were supposed to be alike. Karura, my dearest late mother, was a redhead with brown eyes. Like Uzumaki red. Was she one of the last of her clan, too? Maybe I had more in common with Naruto than just a Tailed Beast. The yondaime, Rasa, had auburn hair and dark eyes. Made you wonder where the daughters of the family inherited their genes from.

Temari could have been the by-product of Namikaze Minato and some green eyed folk. Then again, I didn't know a thing about my grandparents.

As was the dangerous profession of ninja.

I wanted in.

I mean, the other guy barely trained at all and he was considered a dangerous monster at seven, A-ranked at thirteen, and Kazekage at fifteen. How far could I go with training and my wisdom? Plus, my life right now was really boring so I was pretty much grasping at straws here.

Sand came in many forms. There was a metallic like sand, similar to my father's gold dust, or the sandaime Kazekage's in iron dust. Wait... Oh, so I DO know my grandfather, but not my grandmother. I wonder how she died. There was mud, but waterlogged sand really slowed down and hindered movement. Finally, the hardest of them all (probably) had to be glass. There's a chemical reaction when the sand is fired, so that was out of my control. But then again, I wanted to experiment anyway because of my Avatar the Last Airbender inspiration when an earthbender found earth compounds in metal and discovered metalbending. I was basically a sandbender who wanted to find out if there actually were sand components still in glass. Because I knew nothing about glass. Really, I didn't.


	2. Let's Build Sandcastles!

**Done on tablet because I am so fuqing bored. So bored.**

 **Maybe I shouldn't have done all my housework/HW in one go.**

 **And... Love Levi Ackerman!**

 **Do not own the something called Naruto. Yeah... I think y'all should now that by now...**

 **Yes... Ai will be overpowered with BS. Can't help it. Though, can you think of an offset for that? Like a phobia? Maybe an internal conflict? Please review!**

* * *

Running helps improve many physical stuff. Or so I've been told. Actually, I read about it, so even more likely about that being the truth. If not... Then that would mean the books have been lying to me in both lives!

...Okay, it's kind of obvious which one has been telling the truth.

Me.

I was pretty underhanded Before, so why not now?

"Ai, dinner is ready!" Called out Uncle Yashamaru.

"Coming," I chimed back. With my four year old legs, I dropped my toys and raced to the dinner table.

When I said toys, I meant my geeky tools: a nice rubrix cube and a few dull glass chips. So far, I've been able to complete one side of the cube, and broken a handful of glass fragments. I don't know if I was just able to slightly control glass, or my chakra output went over the top. For good chakra control, you ought to be collected. And having less than the average amount really helped, since there was less to control.

My mind was always somewhat frazzled. The Ichibi whispering little snippets here and there didn't help much. And the whole Jinchuriki chakra thing was overpowered. Not to mention that being the child of strong shinobi and the grandchild of the greatest Kazekage said something to your coils. 1% thicker, with a 7% increased flow tenkutsu to tenketsu. Something among those lines.

"Salted Gizzards!" I happily loaded my plate. While it sounds completely fucked up and nasty, it actually tasted quite appealing.

As did curry.

And milk.

I was a growing girl with high Jinchuriki metabolism. Even with a lot of food, I'd still be eternally short due to lack of sleep. I'm not so sure it qualified as insomnia. It was Bijuu-itis. Not my fault.

Did Gaara eat a lot? Or am I just a food-junkie?

Uncle Yashamaru was becoming more and more stressed out as of late. He'd return to the house very, very late. Like, just before the sunrise. And then he would be awake and (not really) lively in time for breakfast. His hair was becoming long and gross with his questionable shower schedule and his skin was sallowing. I mean, he had to be in his thirties, still, right? People usually did not age faster until their forties. Then again, chakra-based stress was an unknown factor of the world. Medical Ninjutsu would be basically impossible for my level of chakra. And I didn't really want to be a "helper" on the battlefield. I would want to be the one who made a difference - somewhere in the front lines or the middle-ish lines.

Oh, and by now, my sand was pretty part of me. No Shukaku puns intended. I just always had my sand. Always. I had made a pretty gourd, maybe like the one in canon-universe or not, out of sand that I had hardened. The cork for the gourd, however, was not sand. It was an old cork I had found in the attic. It didn't seem like a wine cork, since it wasn't at all softened by any alcoholic liquid. The cork was strong enough to hold back sand, just in case of a minor rampage. Then again, that wasn't such a grand idea, since I could use any kind of sand.

I haven't had any experiences with chakra - at least in its blue glowing form. I knew that something inside me was controlling the sand, but I had yet to see and reveal how to use my chakra for anything else. If I could. Did the tailed beast affect how and what forms my chakra could morph into? Naruto, I knew, had a very limited number of jutsu. Sure, there were so many different versions of the original, but that was that. A varied abridged of the original form. He rally only knew academy ninjutsu, wind control, rasengan, shadow clones, and toad stuff.

Lo and behold, the most powerful force of the Fourth Great Ninja War!

...Yeah. It would be quite depressing if I could only do basic cheap tricks and sand jutsu. Then again... weapons! I could learn how to use kunai and shuriken, maybe something badass like senbons that Haku used! But that would also mean training. My physical strength was abysmal. The training that I was currently undergoing was fun stuff, like making more complex shapes out of the sand.

I could make a spear pretty much out of essence.

Team Edward!

But that was more of a deterrent, a big and fat reminder that the whole world of homicidal ninja was true. Uncle Yashamaru might or might not attempt to assassinate me in the coming year or two, my father might or might not send his special ninja after me, and my brother and sister might or might not really dislike me. As in, hate (in a fearful way). I did not like that. Not one bit. Temari and Kankurou were supposed to be my family! I loved them to bits already, even though I probably should have never heard of them.

The Naruto-verse, I knew, was very cruel. I could look out the window of the room I mostly was confined in and count dismembered or somewhat disabled/injured people with numbers that extended much farther than all ten of my pudgy baby fingers. The inkling of doubt of becoming a ninja increased everyday.

 _Just let me take over and you will never feel pain ever again._

That was purely Shukaku's doing, I knew. I worried in the future, when the tanuki would be much more powerful and have more usurping thoughts.

 _What if you destroy the future and kill everybody?_

That, I was unsure whose trail of thoughts was. Mine, or Shukaku's. The knowledge of the future was an almighty thing to uphold, and if even one little whisper slipped out...

What if I met a major character? How would I react? The main thing that I would have done, right then and there, would be to run away, hide in a secluded corner, and finally come out when the person was gone.

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 **Please review! And tell me if I should continue, please!**


	3. I Got a Ticket for the Long Way 'Round

**A/N:**

 **Hello.**

 **Yes, I am still alive. My teachers are cruel, and my math teacher in particular seems to like giving us homework. Over the summer, I traveled a lot with my family. I apologize for not updating in a while, but now I'm back! I don't really know if I'm able to continue any other my other stories, but please tell me if you want to see them updated.**

 **Me, out.**

* * *

I consider myself as an amazing person. No, no, I'm not being vain. I'm being honest.

Yes. Very honest.

Just kidding - I'm a complete and utter liar.

Maybe.

Well, only to the Ichibi. I still don't know how it does it, whispering little things in the back of my mind. They felt like tickles on the nape of my neck, even though my brain was nowhere near that part of the neck.

Oh, fuck you.

...No, not _you,_ but you, the freakin' giant mass of sand in the form of a tanuki. Shukaku.

After my fifth year of living, things went to hell. I was sporting a throbbing headache pretty much every day, and the aspirins didn't help at all. The seal on my stomach kept spiraling in and out like the ink was having a seizure. Guess what. They happened all at the same time. Fuck you and your shitty fuuinjutsu, Old Hag Chiyo.

My stomach didn't hurt at all (weird), but there was a rolling sensation down there somewhere. Maybe it was demon chakra, or I was suffering from severe cramping seven years too early.

No, that wasn't funny.

Ish.

I rolled my shoulders forwards, enjoying the small pops as I loosened my joints. Five years old and already overdosing with Ibuprofen. At least the headaches had temporarily stopped while Shukaku was trying to flush the drugs out of my system, since young children weren't really meant to take that kind of medicine. Hey, at least it wasn't nicotine. That would've been a nightmare to try and flush out, especially since tobacco was so addictive.

And I'm not saying that out of experience, mind you.

Changing the subject here, Uncle Yashamaru stopped coming home all together. I knew how to prepare food and cook it, and his pantry was stuffed, so I didn't worry about shopping until next month, but I was human enough to care about my lovely uncle and his whereabouts. Unless he...?

The life of a shinobi was a dangerous one, but I highly doubted that he had died. My uncle had been killed by other-me's own hands, and that was still years from now.

I think.

It was a piece of cake to sense the guards now, since they were watching me in the motherfucking _sand._ Seriously, the term 'ninja' and 'common sense' did not belong together. At all.

My chakra was embedded in the whole house, so I could navigate my way through it without opening my eyes. Of course, more chakra was mixed into my own personal sand in my gourd, but that was another topic entirely, named "Ai Knows How To..."

Well, I knew how to send a red hot, chakra filled grain of sand right through a person's heart so they would suffer while dying, clutching their chest as they screamed in agony, gasping out their very last words...

Something was messed up. I blamed the jinchuuriki. Oh, wait, that's me!

Yes. Five years of boredom will do this to a person.

So, in order to escape this terrible Boredom-itis, I gathered my things and walked straight out of the door.

It was scalding hot and awfully dry - what a nice day. Really, these days were the best. The wind wasn't blowing hard enough for a sandstorm (Suna didn't have sandstorms, anyways. The city's bowl-shaped walls protected us from the worst of them), and food vendors were chatting happily with their customers.

I didn't have any money on me, so I pouted pathetically when the other children were bought lizard-on-sticks by lovely mothers. My mother died when she gave birth to me, I thought dully.

And so I walked. And walked. And walked. I walked until I was at the village's edge, near the boulders protecting the city. People rarely ventured up here, and hardly ever looked up. I sat down and leaned against a boulder, feeling like a sightseer.

The Village Hidden in the Sand was a pretty place, with red-brown homes made of hardened clay, and an eerie symmetry to the round windows. Many spiritual people had wandered over here in search of spiritual beings, and none were disappointed. During the hours of the night, the sand often whisked up and down into strange patterns and shapes, which led a lot to believing that they had communicated with a Celestial Being or something else.

Or the monks had died a sorrowful deaths from the terrors of the night.

I smacked my forward, and said, "I have way too many screws loose."

 _That you do._

I scowled. "Oh, shut the fuck up, Shukaku. I don't need your bullshit this time of day."

 _Well, if you don't want to deal with me..._

I bristled at seemingly nothing. "Nope," I cut the bijuu off. "I'm not going to listen to you."

 _Fine, then. See if you like this..._

And a sharp pang of pain erupted from m cranium. I managed not to scream, but only barely. I couldn't sense the guards anymore, but they were probably ready to attack at many second now.

When the ultimate headache stopped, I groaned and slumped forward. "I need more Ibuprofen."

 _I can do this all day, little one._

Shit.

* * *

 **A/N: Short, but hey! At least I finished Chapter Three!**


	4. The Twist

And then, like a clockwork, the momentary "peace" subsided. I supposed it was never really "peace," but everything then was still silent and unmoving, with a playful attitude over and done.

Something sharp and shiny pierced through the air, and the sand from the streets immediately rose up as a barrier. The object, a kunai, thudded uselessly against the wall, and I came on instant alert. My body tensed in fright in ways it shouldn't have for a five year old, and my breathing turned ragged. Assassination attempt? No, no, that couldn't be happening yet.

(I wasn't ready)

A tall, leering figure appeared from the shadows, and from the way he held the kunai in his hands, I deduced one thing:

He was trying to kill me.

(Why me?)

Nope, I decided. Nope, nope, nope.

More weapons scattered uselessly against the sand barrier, which had now taken to cocoon around my whole entire body, entrapping me in what I felt safe in. I was distinctly aware of the sand's movements, but I wasn't entirely controlling it. It was my inner subconscious fighting to live, to thrive, and to push away this obstacle.

(I didn't want to fight)

The sand kept piling more and more on until I was submerged in pitch black darkness. However, I could hear the struggle behind the dome, and the angry snarls of words that should never be spoken to anybody, and I curled up into a tiny little ball and rocked back and forth. What if he got through the defense? What then? I didn't want to die, because I had still had so much to do, so much to see… I needed to complete the plot, and that couldn't happen if I wasn't there…

With a surge of helplessness, pain, and fear, my chakra flared and the sand responded in kind.

A spike of sand gutted the man, and the yelling stopped. The sand was of mine and was my very own, which was currently dyed in blood. Red littered the sands, and if this weren't a private little alley, I would've fainted from all the future stares. There would be "oh god it's a killer" and "there's a murderer in town."

 _Ai of the Red Sands_ was being whispered into my mind, and I did what I could to cover the body and all the red, red, red.

But the sand was never still, and since it wasn't my own special little sand, it shifted a little to the left there, and a bulging eye came staring right into my soul, a twisted black little thing that was already beginning to die and fade and wail and scream at the sight that _this thing_ had created. I wobbled backwards and fell not so gracefully on my behind, mouth gaping from the event that took place. My head started pounding, and gleeful not-so-whispers were sent straight into the front of my thoughts (monster, monster, monster), so I fled from the scene like a frightened animal, because wasn't that what I really was? Some lonely child with a demonic gift with the ability to kill.

 _Murderer, murderer, murderer…_

Was I supposed to tell Shukaku to shut up? I didn't have some powerful willpower like the protagonist Naruto, but I didn't want the power to consume me. So I let it be, and gripped my head as I barged into my house, desperately trying to erase all memory of what had taken place moments before.

(Damn pacifists)

But when the next day came, and Yashimaru wasn't back from his mission yet, I locked myself in my room and paced back and forth all day long.

Thinking about what I had been doing wrong, considering making new choices, wondering how…

Yes, I had been too carefree with my inevitable career. Gaara just didn't become strong because of the Ichibi. It was because he _did_ have training. The assassins provided a window to improving and becoming stronger. But I didn't want that. I knew too much. I knew that they must have had families waiting on them to make it back home, or friends that cared about them, or shinobi comrades who missed the comfort of an important teammate.

So I laid a hand on the gourd and began to train.

Assassination Attempt Number: I

* * *

The chakra coursing through my veins, I decided, was weird. It hurt sometimes, and not in the "I pulled a shoulder" kind of way. With me, it burned and scratched and felt like my inner body was on fire. When I wasn't flaring and practicing with my chakra (subsequently overloading a few of the sensors with demonic doom), I was taking notes. Similar to how I did so in high school:

Frantically.

And writing every single thing down, because you know if you don't, then it's going to end up on the test, and you're going to fail.

It was amazing how much of the Narutoverse knowledge I still retained, even after five years of nothing but play. I wrote descriptions of all the main characters, the plot, the backstory, and even Gaara's story. My English was shaky, but repetitive use of it made me quickly relearn it. It was like relearning how to ride a bike, almost.

 _'_ _Demon Moon Eye Plan (probably called that): resurrected Uchiha Madara and Tobito bring out the Juubi, which sucks most everyone's chakra out and would have killed them. Then Kaguya comes along and Team 7 fights her, then...'_

It was mostly like that, and in a messy drawl. Hopefully, nobody would be able to snatch this notebook out of the inner pockets of my robe. Hopefully, nobody would be able to decipher such a code like English, considering the only language here is Japanese. With extra stuff.

By the time I filled the notebook with scribbles, it was already the next day and probably way past breakfast.

I trudged down to the kitchen for a hearty bowl of leftovers and a glass of refreshing water. But when the cup of water fell out of my hand and cracked when it reached the floor, I leaned against the table to offset the extreme nausea. Little dregs escaped the broken glass, and my eyes widened in realization.

 _Poison,_ my mind supplemented, before I dropped to the floor and smacked my face straight into the glass.

Assassination Attempt Number: II


	5. The Black Swan

The cave wasn't stereotypically dark and gloomy. There was a wide opening in the front that let in the raging sands and burning sun. And when the storms hit, torches suddenly appeared, and floated unceremoniously.

Rusty metal bars were the only thing that blocked me from the giant, twenty foot tanuki in the back of the cave.

 _How dare those foolish humans poison MY jinchuuriki! It fuckin' hurts whenever they die!_

The tailed beast's lair was… too say, frightening. The shadows over-accentuated his already enormous girth, and his loud shouts were more like the howling of a wolf, ready to kill. I was afraid to speak, to make him focus those beady yellow eyes straight at me. He rammed into the bars, and I felt an otherworldly jolt, before being forcibly excused from Shukaku's domain.

Blink.

Blink, blink.

My eyes had that unfamiliar crusty sensation of _rest_ , and it was really weird. I slowly stood up and examined my surroundings. Nope, no white linens of a hospital. Just me and this broken cup…

Oh right.

My hands touched my cheek, expecting a glass chip stuck there, but all I felt was sand. I looked down and saw the cup even more broken, the sand having presumably scattering the glass all over in areas that weren't my body when I fell. Sticking out a hand to form the sand to gather all the glass chips and dumping them in the trash, I then got another glass, checked for dregs, and poured water in. My throat was inflamed, from rather swallowing the poison, or dehydration.

My sand separated the glass from the poison, and a few dried out dregs were sitting innocently in my palm.

I took a whiff at it, taking a wild guess that the affects would only take place if consumed (even if not, I had probably already created an immunity).

It was an almost forgettable smell. One I barely remembered from my time Before.

Evergreen trees.

Hemlock.

Hemlock was a dangerous paralysis agent, and an overdose would lead to a three day coma, then death.

Considering how many little crushed up pine needles there were, it was safe to assume they had been aiming for death.

"Assassination attempt: Fail," I said dryly, noting how the people hidden in the sand just outside of the window stiffened. They stiffened to the point that comparing them to logs would be doable when my body racked and hacked out a few more crushed up needles.

The clock stated that only three hours had passed, and I silently thanked Shukaku for his demon chakra killing the poison.

 _I'll let you thank me when I see the 4_ _th_ _Kazekage's head on a skewer, with his eyeballs eaten by rats!_

The Ichibi cackled, and I involuntarily shuddered. I took more Ibuprofen just to spite that, making him work hard.

Wait, was Shukaku a he? Did the tailed beasts have genders?

I climbed back up the stairs to my room to train more, so the Kazekage wouldn't have to send assassins after me, seeing how I was "preparing" myself already.

This young body was flexible and durable (cough cough sand cough cough), and it would be a shame to waste that. I wasn't at all interested in, well, _fighting_ _people_ , so the only strictly Taijutsu thing I practiced was stretching. Besides, it felt good to stretch.

I think that it was a huge downer to not have that insatiable bloodlust as a shinobi. Or, a person like me. The higher ups wanted me to kill people, the people they didn't like (in the future, anyways). After that bout yesterday, I hated conflict. I wanted things resolved peacefully, and thinking about other-me's descent into madness made me sick. I couldn't, and I wouldn't be able to kill gleefully and willfully like he had.

The shinobi world didn't seem so inviting anymore. But it wasn't my choice. I was just the village's weapon.

I cracked my knuckles and stared at the glass chunk I managed Yashimaru to buy for me.

And at least I could have the chance to be a damn good one.

* * *

Sand shifted with the wind, always flying this way and that.

In a deserted training field, I danced with the sand.

Right hand up, shoulders back, feet in the air like a ballerina. A torrent of sand shot up from the ground, creating a ten feet high wall. My back arched so the tips of my hair brushed my heels, and a giant dome was created. The dance moves were unnecessary, but fun to do. My left leg lifted backwards high into the air, and my hands grasped my ankle once it had created a mini loop. Half-assed ballet moves were drenched in nostalgia, and I attempted recreating the Swan Lake ballet. Unsurprisingly, I had gotten the part for the Black Swan in my previous life.

I abruptly stopped when the dome was complete.

It was a massive thing, the size of the Kazekage's building. Once I was sure that it was stable, even adding a few columns, I pushed chakra into a section of the sand, burning it. It wasn't hard to do, since my chakra was fire-y already. After about three minutes of steady superhot chakra pulsing through, the sand melted and formed into glass. Once the process was complete, the chakra in the glass was the only thing from not letting it topple over.

I had this "sixth sense" almost when it came to my sand. However, when it came to the glass, it cut off from my radar. Gone. Exposed. Already been made into something else entirely.

The sand on all four corners hardened and allowed the sharp edges to wedge into the sides. I completed the process all over again, just to feel the flicker of the abandoned chakra while the transformation was taking place.

There had to be a way – some way that I could change that.

But this was a scientific process, and if it was ever destroyed, the sky would turn green, and Shukaku would invite me into his domain for a cup of tea.

Yeah.

I walked into the sandy wall, let it disperse just before I broke my nose, and let it reassemble behind my back.

It was damn near difficult to see the village from here, and vice-versa. It was then that I decided my little creation needed a name.

Carefully, because I learned how to write not two years ago, I traced onto the building, _Ai's Training Area. Do not enter._

From my name alone, normal civilians and a few shinobi wouldn't dare enter. But the Kazakage would undoubtedly send a few of his most loyal to check it out, and see if I've been "conspiring with the demon." Quote on quote.

The walk back to the village was uneventful. No galestorms, or sudden bursts of lightning coinciding in my direction. There were still people watching me, buried half way in the _sand._ I wanted to cackle and prepare a dramatic pose before declaring that I had the ability to control the environment, and cut off their legs, but that would not help my resolution to be viewed as sane. Not one bit. And, y'know… Cutting off people's legs was a bit… gruesome…


	6. A Flicker in His Eyes

When my sixth birthday came and went, there was nerve-wracking _waiting._

How long? I didn't know.

But sometime soon, my uncle was going to kill me.

It was a strange ordeal to obey orders from this person you don't even know their favorite color, much less how they are as a person. And it was a different matter entirely when you had to obey their every command, unless you were suicidal to a degree.

Being able to cast away emotions like that, to obey this moral called "the greater good" for "my" people; blood-curdling. Hair-raising. Bone-chilling. Exactly that.

Being raised in a highly "we're in this together" society called democracy, in which there is no one with absolute power, was still imprinted on me. The Kazekage had to slip eventually, and this may have been it. I refused to believe that he genuinely _wished_ for emotional turmoil, or the lack thereof. There wasn't anything like 'The Will of Sand' in this country. There wasn't going to be a Kakashi-sensei to allow slip-ups and make people acknowledge that comrades were more important than some scroll. Here? You had the basis of what you wished there to be, who you refused to fight, who you wanted to kill, and how you were going to kill them. Anything else? Simple. A distraction. But civilian-styled life wasn't much better. Because while you didn't have to directly _follow_ someone and be _ordered around,_ whenever there was danger, there was absolutely nothing you could do, and you had to trust your life with some deranged sociopath who could and would kill you at the slightest hand raised.

The mission was ahead of the actual people completing it, and if they failed, you cut them off.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to admire Yashimaru for being able to submit and lock away all emotion while battling his nephew to death, or whisk away into the night, not being able to stand all this pressure to become a tool.

A damn object.

Lifeless.

Temari and Kankurou hadn't been mentioned in Yashimaru's monthly talks, or whenever he made it home. I wasn't sure if Gaara knew he had siblings, or seriously couldn't care less when they were shoved on a team together.

Anyhow, the road to becoming Kazekage wasn't very pretty. Suna had the reputation as the weakest Shinobi Nation, especially after the last Great War. So, if a fifteen year old made Kage, that nation was rather pathetic, or that teen was just strong.

Probably a mixture of both.

After all, didn't I kill a top-notch assassin the other day, and created a building that normal civilian workers would take months to build?

The adrenaline had worn off long ago, but I still admired all these amazing feats. I had all this power… and hated using it against other people.

Shoot.

Meanwhile, someone crept around the house, tiptoeing gently in the sandy alleys.

Assassin? Please no…

Again, I immediately collapsed to the ground and curled up in a tiny little ball, and let the protective casing create a bubble. It was impenetrable, and I made sure it damn was. His presence disappeared from the sand, and in those few seconds, I let down my guard.

Maybe, maybe, the watcher had only been doing his daily rounds. Maybe, maybe.

But the negligence on my part gave way. Literally. A powerful swath of… wind? The razor sharp element pierced a gaping hole in my defense, and I sat still, too shocked that the barrier between me and the _assassin_ had just been broken. Sand rushed to cover it, but not before I was allowed a glimpse of who my attacker was.

Blank features.

An uncaring expression.

Emotionless. It was too frightening to comprehend that this shinobi gave absolute no fucks that he had been ordered by his "mighty leader" to murder a child. A child a few years out of diapers.

…Rasa, emotionally constipated or not, was a shitty father.

More wind slashed the sphere, but this time, I was ready. Once the attacker had landed gracefully on the ground, narrowly avoiding a flying sand bullet, it swallowed him whole.

The need for him to just go away and never return, along with Shukaku slightly altering the sand's movements, never let him resurface alive.

Blood.

Blood was everywhere. It splattered the living room with this disgusting red color, and even when I dumped all the sand I had brought in from outside out the window, the walls were stained. The stench hit me full-on, and I was prepared to puke my guts out if not for another assassin in wait.

 _Get away, get away, get away, get away…!_

(Fear)

He walked slowly, the scarf wrapped around his head like a mummy. I couldn't summon the sand quickly enough… I had dropped it outside, and my chakra infused sand was weighted down by the corpse…

(Can)

Escape. Escape. Escape. I needed to escape.

(Kill)

I let myself become the sand.

(You)

The sensation of not being human was strange, indeed.

I wasn't there, yet I was.

Sand is always, always shifting. I was aware that the assassin had stabbed me with a katana, but the wound had become sand, and I had scattered away with the wind.

Yet, I couldn't see a thing.

I was distinctly aware of my surroundings. Tactile sense. Chakra sense. Sight, hearing, scent, and taste were abysmal.

I was the sand, and the sand was me.

I could feel the breeze, the burning sun, the gentle brush against the clothes of those shopping in the above ground market. Each individual grain was just as important as the larger group in the middle. Traversing the dull market... I had never felt so _alive._ With that trail of though, I knew this had to end. Had to. Needed to. Couldn't keep thinking like this. I was human, human, human. Wasn't sand. Was human. Had to have a human body...

Reappearing wasn't difficult. It was... peculiar. There was not other way to describe how it felt. It just w _as_. I was coming together, becoming whole and healthy again. But the tug in the pit of my stomach was unsettling.

I _wanted_ to be enveloped in sand, forever travelling the winds.

An escape.

"No," I exclaimed, now in _Ai's Training Area._ "Goddammit Shukaku. Stop fucking with my head."

A sinister chuckle could only be heard from inside my mind.

I burned the pseudo-building until the entirety of it was glass.

Assassination Attempt Number: III

* * *

The need to kill should never be bottled up. Preferably, talked out with a therapist or a psychologist.

However, the pent-up rage I was feeling was from the sights I saw on a daily basis.

Looks of utter contempt.

Just walking to and from the training grounds was now an arduous task. Whispers of, " _monster, monster_ " was agonizing. They hated me. Hated me.

Hate is a strong word.

(Hated me)

The civilians didn't know any better. I was saving them.

" _I heard that_ IT _killed people. That monster doesn't deserve to live…"_

No, no. Self-defense.

Purely defensive.

 _"_ _What is_ IT _doing here? That monster doesn't belong here…"_

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you…

 _"_ _All that red…"_

Wait.

They fucking SAW it?

All the red, red, red.

The blood.

The corpses.

Fear.

Fear.

Fear.

 _Kill them all! Kill all those foolish bygones!_ Growled the root of all the hatred.

But… It wasn't the Ichibi's fault. Wasn't it the tailed beasts' nature to be destructive? Wasn't it humanity's nature to protect?

 _It's also their nature to be unnecessarily cruel. Humans need a scapegoat._

I switched directions, stomping towards the real cause.

 _Did you know? Humans are the only creatures that are suicidal, or homicidal for_ fun.

I envied the desert lizards crawling up the Kazakage tower. No real leader. No need for oppression. Especially the equality in the animal system, ignoring the predetermined food chain.

This was purely mental.

Fear was an emotion.

Emotions are a figment of brain matter.

I briefly wondered if it was possible to do a surgery to remove the white brain matter – the emotional cue.

Wouldn't that be so much better?

A weapon they needed.

I pushed the doors open, raving mad. I was sure that the sand I was leaving in my wake was spiking. The secretary gasped, and became rigid.

"Hello," I said as politely as possible.

She was wide-eyed, staring mute.

"I need to see the Kazekage. My father."

Silence.

I narrowed my eyes, sure that the desolate foamy sea color would make her talk. "It's urgent."

She stuttered with the instructions. Finally, cooperation. "Th-Th-Third F-Floor. Se-S-Sec-co-cond o-on le-lef-."

Without letting her finish, I shot upwards, having no use for arcane things such as stairs. The walls were made of packed clay.

Clay was a form of sand.

Trivial matters.

I let myself be consumed once again, enjoying the safety of not being totally there, and found the correct room. I seeped under the doorframe and this time, did a dramatic entrance.

The sand slowly formed back into a humanoid figure, and the extra gust the circled around the completed figure was for extra flair.

The 4th Kazekage peered up from his paperwork.

"Hello, Ai."

 _Rip off that annoying head of his – he doesn't need it! I want to see the rats in his skull!_

I bowed, counting the number of tense shinobi "hidden" in the crevices and corners of the room.

"Hello, father."

Rasa of the sands stopped writing. He stacked the papers to the side of his desk, and set his pen down. "What brings you here, Ai?"

Nonchalant look. It was like he didn't care at all. With that deduction, a little segment of my heart broke.

Chipped glass.

Even though I had a whole half-assed speech prepared, I came up empty. I could only ask, "Why?"

Rasa stared petulantly.

Then, then… something in his eyes foretold everything he wanted to say. But it had disappeared in a flash, and I wondered if it was a figment of my imagination.

"Because," he said, eyes not quite focused. "There was no other choice."

 _No other…? Hah!_

I stared, disbelieving.

He was relentless. "Now, Ai. I'm a very busy man, and shouldn't be disturbed."

I couldn't muster a glare as I let myself fly far, far away. I knew that Gaara's father was a hard man. But experiencing this kind of _resentment_ first hand was…

" _Monster, monster, monster,"_ still rang in my ears.

Shukaku cackled in the background.


End file.
